Chapter 265: March to Ireland and the Consolidation of Power

The Chaldean group, along with Lancelot and Oberon, began their journey towards the island of Ireland. The air was tense with anticipation as they crossed the sea, each member preparing mentally for the challenges ahead.

"It feels… odd," Leonardo Da Vinci mused, rubbing her chin thoughtfully as she observed Oberon. Her instincts, sharper than Ritsuka Fujimaru's, were on high alert. Oberon's demeanor seemed almost too perfect, too pure. He was either genuinely innocent, like Galahad, or hiding something dark beneath his pleasant exterior. With no concrete evidence to support either theory, Da Vinci resolved to remain cautious. She couldn't afford to be deceived.

The journey across the sea was long and exhausting. The group had waited for days at the Scottish port, hoping Merlin would join them. But when the enigmatic mage failed to appear, they had no choice but to set sail without him. Knowing Merlin's abilities, they were confident he would find them when necessary.

The voyage was rough, and the distance from Scotland to Ireland felt interminable. After several days of relentless waves, they finally reached the Irish port. Fujimaru, the first to disembark, was overwhelmed with seasickness, leaning over the side of the ship and vomiting.

"Oh, I should have prepared better for this," Ritsuka groaned as she tried to regain her composure.

"Senpai, are you alright?" Mash hurried over to support her, concern evident in her eyes.

"I'm fine, just a little seasick," Ritsuka mumbled, leaning weakly against Mash's shoulder.

Meanwhile, Lancelot and Oberon seemed unaffected by the journey. Lancelot, who had sailed between France and England countless times, was accustomed to the sea and showed no signs of discomfort. Oberon, on the other hand, had avoided seasickness altogether by flying above the ship, his wings keeping him aloft and untroubled by the rocking waves.

"How much have you prepared in Ireland?" Ritsuka asked once she felt stable enough to speak.

Oberon smiled, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. "Look over there."

He gestured ahead, prompting everyone to follow his gaze. As they looked, they saw an army approaching from the horizon.

"Are these your preparations?" Ritsuka asked, surprised by the sight of thousands of soldiers and hundreds of knights marching towards them.

"Yes, I've managed to persuade more than half of the local kings to join our cause," Oberon replied proudly.

"Does that mean we can start training them now?" Mash asked, excitement lighting up her face as she watched the impressive force assemble.

"Not just yet," Oberon said, his tone serious. "While I've gathered these forces, I haven't established leadership among them. You'll need to prove your strength to the kings before we can proceed."

Hearing this, Lancelot unsheathed his long sword, his expression firm. "If that's all, then it should be an easy task."

He glanced at the approaching soldiers, his face set with determination. In this era, Ireland and Scotland had been stripped of their strongest warriors, many of whom had gone to serve Camelot. For Lancelot, facing these remaining forces was a trivial matter.

While Ritsuka and her team prepared to organize the Irish forces, Morgan and Lott were busy solidifying their hold over Scotland. Once they had confirmed which Scottish kings would stand with them and who would resist, they moved swiftly to secure their position.

For their allies, Lott and Morgan hosted grand banquets, introducing the Scottish nobles to the legendary Orkney delicacies. The lavish displays of hospitality helped win over those who were undecided, spreading Camelot's influence through food and culture.

For their enemies, however, they showed no mercy. Camelot's armies, led by Altria and Kay on one front, Galahad and Morgan on another, and with the formidable demons Lan and Tsui on the third, launched a relentless campaign. With support from local clans that had allied themselves with Camelot and the unmatched prowess of the Knights of the Round Table, resistance crumbled.

One by one, the rebellious Scottish kings fell, their lands brought under Camelot's control. As the three armies converged, having achieved complete victory, Morgan stood on a high platform, surveying the lands that now belonged to them.

"It's ours once again," she declared, her voice filled with triumph.

The unification of Scotland and England was no small feat, a rare accomplishment in these ancient times when the British Isles were often fragmented. Morgan's achievement would be remembered, as a testament to Camelot's strength and her leadership.

As she reflected on their success, Altria, Galahad, and the other knights approached.

"Your Majesty, we have fulfilled our mission," Altria said, bowing respectfully. "All of Scotland now flies the banner of Camelot."

Hearing the report, Morgan felt a sense of relief. This long and arduous campaign was finally over. Camelot had triumphed once again, expanding its territory and stabilizing its position.

She had accomplished what no other king had managed before unifying Scotland and England. Even though Camelot's size paled in comparison to the Roman Empire, the challenges they had faced were far greater. They hadn't just conquered land; they had battled and subdued mystical creatures and fantasy races that roamed Britain.

"Go and rest for now," Morgan said warmly, her gaze softening as she looked at Altria and Gawain. "Your rewards will be substantial, I promise."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Kay replied earnestly. Despite his usual humor, he knew better than to jest at a moment like this.

"Reward? Does that mean delicious food?" Altria's eyes sparkled with anticipation, her thoughts focused on the culinary delights that might await her.

Morgan couldn't help but smile at Altria's unrelenting love for food. "Can't you think beyond your stomach, just once?" she thought, shaking her head inwardly. Yet, despite Altria's insatiable appetite, Morgan cherished her sister's innocent nature, seeing it as a way to preserve her youthful spirit.

"You'll get everything you want," Morgan promised indulgently.

Altria's face lit up with joy at the assurance, while behind her, Gawain stood grinning.

"Mom, I don't need any rewards from you," Gawain said cheerfully, stepping forward.

Morgan raised an eyebrow, surprised by her daughter's maturity. But Gawain's next words shattered that illusion.

"Because everything will be mine one day," she added with a mischievous smile, reaching out to massage Morgan's shoulders.

Morgan turned and lightly smacked Gawain on the head. "You cheeky girl! Your father and I are in perfect health. Don't expect to take over for at least another seventy or eighty years!"

Gawain laughed, rubbing her head. "Of course, Mom! I'm just saying, you know!"

Morgan sighed but couldn't hide her smile. Their victory, the unity of the lands, and her family's playful banter—it was moments like these that made all the struggles worthwhile.